


Rain Clouds

by akuli



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Multiple Pronouns for Eret (Video Blogging RPF), everyone except fundy and eret are mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:08:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27872050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akuli/pseuds/akuli
Summary: Alastair betrayed his family for a pretty crown, as Dream so eloquently worded it. If the one thing he let his friends die for is gone, then what, pray tell, is Fundy doing, offering him a second chance.or; Alastair and Fundy save each other, without fully comprehending it.
Relationships: Eret & Floris | Fundy, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 63





	Rain Clouds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luciditylost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciditylost/gifts), [The_Crab_Overlord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Crab_Overlord/gifts).



> ... yes I wrote another one. However, I like this one significantly more and got it done within a week! Yay! Title’s taken from The Arcadian Wild, and I feel like this song really encapsulates the tone I was trying to go for with this fic. I promise my next work won’t be Eret, but I hope you guys enjoy <3

Alastair is working on the museum that day, making trips between the archway that marks the entrance castle that is no longer hers, but holds the resources even Dream knows she worked hard to collect. His fingers are gentle on the surface of the blank paper he retrieves from one of the various chests that line the wall, and there’s a feather, sharpened at the end, nestled in his pocket next to an ink sac that he’s worried will burst in his pants and take  _ hours _ to get out at any moment.

They scale the recreation of the van, remembering the original that lays in ruin in the wake of Wilbur’s final act. She knows Tubbo planned to rebuild it at one point, but she wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t, at this point. The vantage point allows her to examine what work she’s gotten done so far, the map firmly nailed into the brick wall, and the wall, her most recent project in the larger scheme of this building.

The comfortable silence of the last few hours being one of the only members on the SMP is broken by a whistle. When she looks down, the delight on her face at Fundy’s appearance rivals that of the ever-present glow beneath her sunglasses. He waves to his old friend, making his way over to the edge of the van and climbing down using the laser, thankful the original design is considered fall damage. When she reaches the bottom, Fundy is only a few feet away, and she approaches him with a grin she cannot subdue despite the corners of her mouth beginning to ache.

“ Fundy! Hi!”

“ Hey,” His voice is quiet, bordering on shy, but his more animalistic features betray him, ears swiveling back and forth.

“ How’ve you been, dude?” 

“ I think you know the answer to that.”

She doesn’t like to think about Wilbur. She’s caught herself, usually when passing through L’manburg, visiting Nikki or Tubbo, grieving not for the man who blew up her former home, but for Wilbur. He remembers a man who accepted her into the nation on Tommy’s recommendation, who was selfish from the start, but everyone loved Wilbur, so they didn’t care if he pushed the limits of Tubbo and Eret sometimes. She remembers Tubbo’s face when Tommy was exiled alongside Wilbur, her offer vehemently denied by the same boy she loved, and still wanted to protect. He remembers Wil’s reassurance to Tommy, and polite rejection. She remembers helping Nikki the best she could, whether that be attempting to save a burning symbol of hope, or holding his best friend while she cried.

She can’t look at L’manburg anymore without remembering the explosion, the deafening sound of tnt exploding and Nikki and Tommy’s cries for the nation they grew up in. He can’t imagine what it’s like for Fundy, who lost his birthright and his father in the span of minutes.

“ I think I do as well,” The tips of her fingers feel like she’s touched an electric fence, sore, aching, rather than actual pain “ Hey. Can I hug you?”

  
“ ...yeah,” His eyes drop to the ground, and it’s in moments like these that she’s reminded that Fundy was a child, just like Tommy and Tubbo, “ yeah, I’d like that.”

Even with his permission, she hesitates for a moment, before moving closer to him, making a point that he can see her arm curl around his back and pull him in. When he relaxed into the embrace, she rests her chin against his shoulder, hearing the irregularity of his breath and feeling the long breath he exhales against her chest.

“ You're gonna be okay, kid,” One of his hands rests on the top of Fundy’s head, gently running through his hair “ me and Phil are going to make sure of that.”

“ Hah,” Fundy laughs, but there’s a spiteful edge to his words “ coming from the man who betrayed my dead dad. It’s rather ironic.”

“ Yeah,” A month or two ago, she may’ve winced at the comment, laced with some truth and residual bitterness, but he knows Fundy is coping on top of dealing with the aftermath of a war he should’ve never been involved in to begin with, “ we should really have a proper talk about that at some point.”

“ That’d be nice,” Fundy’s laugh sounds less forced this time, and despite the waterlines of his eyes, his smile looks genuine “ exchanging trauma stories around the fireside.”

“ Considering what I saw, in the brief time I was with you guys,” He thinks of Wilbur’s voice, haunting despite the absurdity of the lyrics of L’manburg’s national anthem, the way Nikki is the last to stop wearing her uniform, “ those would be some stories.”

“ Oh, before I forget,” He reaches over, into one of his pockets, and the hesitant smile is replaced by a playful grin “ I have something for you.”

“ Oh? For me?”

“ Yeah! Uh,” He opens his palm, presenting her with a handful of golden nuggets, contorted and shined to disguise the damage caused from extreme heat. Lava, if she’d have to guess. “ Gold for the king. Spare the peasants.”

“ Thank you, Fundy,” He accepts the gift, treating it with far more reverence than it deserves “... you know I’m not the king anymore, though.” Alastair's voice is quiet, tinged with shame, lament in the way he removes his crown, tracing the gems. He thinks of George, whose crown is silver, but a crown nevertheless. 

“ You’ll always be the king to me.” Fundy replies, and she appreciates his kindness, she does, but she doesn’t know how to respond to that.

Alastair betrayed his family for a  _ pretty crown _ , as Dream so  _ eloquently _ worded it. If the one thing he let his friends die for is gone, then what, pray tell, is Fundy doing, offering him a second chance.

“ Al?”

“ ‘m here,” He is thankful, once again, for the glasses that obscure the wateriness of his eyes, “ sorry. Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?”

“ Not at the moment,” Fundy looks, for a moment, like he wants to say something, but seems to decide against it, patting Alaistar’s shoulder before turning away, communicating, without a single word, an end to their conversation, “ I’ll let you get back to your work.”

“ Thank you.”

She waits an entire minute after Fundy steps out of the entrance, tall pillars of quartz highlighting the contrast of tangerine fur as he rounds the corner, and is effectively out of view. Once the minute has passed, he finds a place to lean up against the van, head against the blackstone of what’s meant to be tires.

“ …  _ fuck _ ,” He removes his sunglasses 

Alastair doesn’t cry often. He remembers coaxing Tubbo away from where Schlatt paced the wall, Alex by his side, desperately trying to reason with him already, and Fundy, whose exhilaration was palpable in the blisters on his thumbs the next day. She held him for only a minute before Schlatt called for his right hand man, and Tubbo reluctantly slipped out from under her arms, a forced, although blinding smile on his face but a moment later. 

(Tubbo asks him to find Tommy after the explosion. She finds him in Pogtopia, the dim light of the torches that haven’t been ripped off the walls making him more of a shadow. He makes his way down quietly, noticing the eeriness of the potato farm and the broken locks of the chests. 

Alastair does not expect Tommy to hug them. He is more than happy to reciprocate, however, even if Tommy makes him swear that it never happened.)

Alastair doesn’t like to cry. It’s a universal sign of weakness, especially in this SMP, where two of the most powerful individuals of his generation reside, one’s watchful gaze over his kingdom felt even when he is not physically present, and the other dressed in satin the color of roses and obligation, trudging through snow.

She’s tired, but it’s nothing compared to Tubbo, who’s been assigned the responsibility of rebuilding a nation, reinstalling hope when he has none to give. He feels neglected in a revolution he helped found, but it’s nothing compared to Nikki who is strong, but never listened to by the man who asked for her company. Alastair feels like a traitor but Tommy and Techno live, with the knowledge that their brother was slain by the man they call a father. She can’t even imagine what it’s like to be Fundy, to have your father prefer death over taking responsibility for his actions, for what he’s put you and the rest of your family through. Fundy’s an  _ orphan _ , for Prime’s sake...

… Fundy’s an orphan.

The epiphany feels like a hobgoblin attack- it knocks all the air out of their lungs, but the adrenaline rush causes that excitement upon realizing she can have a purpose again, one that fulfills her desperation to be redeemed, seen as a good person, while simultaneously giving back to the one person who never gave up on her.

Alastair doesn’t know if he deserves this redemption arc. But Fundy has offered him back a friendship he believed to have ruptured long ago, without requesting anything in return. Perhaps it’s time he returned the favor.

* * *

Alastair finds Fundy In L’manburg, seemingly following in his grandfather’s footsteps by filling the craters, a direct effort of the explosion that took his father as well. She hesitates when reaching out to him, and is glad he’s the one who turns, and initiates the conversation. 

“ Oh! Hey, Eret,” Fundy adjusts the first so that it lays in a position where grass will eventually grow over, erasing L’manburg’s physical scars“ is there something you need?”

“ Would you, maybe,” He notices how nervous they look as they retrieve a book from their inventory and hold it out to Fundy “want to be adopted?”

Fundy’s heart drops.

“ … are you being serious?”

“ Always,” They watch, concern unfolding as Fundy sinks to the ground wordlessly, the leather-bound book held tightly against his chest like a treasure. Fundy’s gaze finds no focus, so he doesn’t register Alastair taking a place next to him, attempting to lighten the mood by nudging his shoulder with enough force for him to sway “ So... is that a yes?”

“ My grandpa doesn’t like me in his house.” The remark is made to himself, for the most part, but Alastair responds anyways.

“ I want to make a new colossal fortress, you know, since,” He gestures in the direction of his castle “ there’ll be plenty of space for you there.”

“ I have to consult with the higher ups,” Fundy allows himself a minute longer to bask in hope, in the security of the letters carved into the leather of the book, before handing it back to Alastair and standing, offering a hand to help his companion to her feet “ I won’t be long, I promise.”

“ Of course.” She accepts, and if Fundy’s grip tightens around their interlocked fingers for a moment before he releases her, neither of them mention it.

“ Eret?”

“ Yes, Fundy?”

“ Thank you.”

* * *

Traveling across servers has always made Fundy’s stomach churn, that anxiety only increases considering Phil has chosen to live in hardcore. Fundy steps out, into the spawn, and feels sand under his feet. He breathes out a sigh of relief, sinking to his knees and takes a moment to regain his composure, hands interlocked and resting on the back of his neck, his head buried between his knees.

About an hour later, Fundy arrives at Phil’s house. Although Phil’s arrival to the SMP was under… less than ideal, he’s arguably the best builder of the SMP, and begins filling creeper holes long-forgotten by the rest of the members on his second day. His home in his domain both exceeds Fundy’s expectations and is exactly what he expects, the architecture so clearly a mixture of practicality and visual pleasure. There four are beacons stationed around, placed with an intention Fundy cannot fantom, and although Phil’s house is made of simple, stone bricks, his chests and shulker boxes are organized, and there’s a bookshelf with an enchanting table situated in the middle, symbols Fundy cannot read drawn out of the ancient books and into the table.

With the lack of the man himself, can Fundy only assume Phil’s in the nether, building what he heard Wilbur refer to a handful of times as the Void. Fundy is not keen to visit the Nether without reason, much less in an unfamiliar world, where the rules of death are far more permanent. He pets Phil’s cat instead, and the sun has long taken it’s leave by the time he hears the noise of a door opening, and Phil enters.

“ Phil?”

Phil is in the process of lifting his netherite helmet off of his head. His eyes are tired until he recognizes Fundy, and immediately, something about his posture changes and becomes protective “ Fundy? Christ, how’d you get here?”

“ You, uh,” He presents Phil with the map, and the older man hums in understanding.

“ Oh, right,” There’s something about Phil’s laugh that feels like the sunrise, fleeting, but warm in hues of marigold and orchids “ honestly forget I gave you that.”

“ It’s fine,” Fundy tucks the map away, smoothing wrinkles that do not exist in his jacket out of habit “ can I talk to you? I won’t be long.”

“ I mean,” He must notice how Fundy wilts, because he walks over and sits next to Fundy “ Of course. I always have time to spare for my boys. What’s up?”

“ Eret offered to adopt me,” Phil, who’s never known a reason to lie, winces, thinking of what’s left of Wiobur, as Fundy continues “ and you’re my only living relative so I wanted your opinion? I think you may also be my legal guardian.”

“ Fuckin’ christ, kid,” He traces the brim of his hat idly, meeting Fundy’s gaze “ that’s a lot to think about.”

“ If you say n-”

“ Woah, woah,” Phil raises a hand, and Fundy stops, although his ears remain flattened against his head “ I’m not saying no,” at Fundy’s visible confusion, Phil sighs and leans further back inyo the bookshelf, “ you have to remember I don’t know anyone, even less about them, other than what Wil and Tommy have told me, and I think we both know how dramatic those two can be.”

“ I want to get to know the guy. Make sure that house is child-proofed,” Fundy’s pupils dilate at the insinuation, and Phil can’t help but to laugh at the way he struggles through his next sentence.

“ I’m not a kid! I’m- I’m literally old enough to get married! Under the law!” 

“ Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Phil tilts his head in Fundy’s direction, “ the point is, I’d like to meet the guy before you go through with this.”

“ So what do I tell him?”

“ Tell him, for now, sure. If he does anything day-of that changes my mind.. Well, I suppose we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. There’s also,” Phil wavers, for a moment, and there’s an apology queued in the way he averts his gaze as he toes the line of conflict with his next words “ the issue of your father.”

“ Don’t call him that.”

“ Fundy-”

“ No,” Fundy uses the bookshelf as a crutch, nails digging into the wood and leaving scars too small to logically replace the entire thing “ you can call that thing your son, but that’s not my dad. My dad-”

He was fortunate enough not to witness his father’s last moments, but the look on Phi’s face after Techno fled, and the lack of Wilbur combined with the knowledge that only he was ambitious enough to blow up L’manburg was enough, “ my dad’s dead.”

“ Fundy, I know he wasn’t the greatest to you-”

“  _ He wasn’t the greatest _ ?” Fundy laughs, claws flexing albeit painfully against his palm, “ understatement of the fucking century.”  
  


“ Fundy, you’ve got to give him a chance, man.”

“ I don’t owe him anything,” He’s  _ tired _ of people telling him to give this fraud, the  _ thing _ who claims to be the ghost of his father a  _ chance _ , especially those who did not witness the early days of L’manburg. He’s especially tired of Phil, “ whatever the man who calls himself the name of my father is not him. My dad is dead, and you killed him. You should know, out of everyone, that whatever remains of him, that ghost or whatever it claims to be, is not your son.”

There’s a certain, nauseating satisfaction Fundy gets from the way Phil’s face drops, and he doesn’t meet Fundy’s eyes, “ I’m going to give you some time to calm down.”

“ I don’t need any,” Fundy turns away from Phil, fists clenched and trembling “ I’ve made my choice, and I’m fully within my right to do so. I don’t care what you do, just sign the papers, or don’t.”

“ I suppose I’ll see you later, then.”

“ I guess you will.”

“ Goodbye, Fundy,” Phil calls after him as he opens the iron door “ Get back safely-“

The door slams, soundly bringing the conversation to an unsatisfactory end on both sides. Phil remains on the floor until his cat rubs it’s head against his armoured ribcage, and he remembers where he is. He stands, scratching it’s ears as he begins to remove the rest of his armor, the eternal, rippling glow of enchantments almost replicating the magenta of the night sky. 

Phil does not understand the Dream SMP. He speaks the language of hardcore, where death is revered out of . He ruled the world of SMP Earth with one of his sons, the other accepting betrayal time and time again. Phil knows death like an old friend and war as inevitable, but he has never been on an SMP like this, where death means something other than failure. The way the void in Tubbo’s eyes regains stars when he agrees to help on his ocean project makes Phil’s heart ache, and the relief on Nikki’s face, the way Tommy hugs him makes him feel ill, the sword he used to fulfill Wilbur’s last wish gripped tightly in his hand.

Phil learns, from the Dream SMP, that he cannot fix everything.

* * *

Fundy stumbles out of the portal, into spawn. The sun is disappearing behind the horizon, but he’s dressed in netherite in this world, and so he finds the closest tree and collapses against it. He wants to scream, to drag his claws against the bark of the trees until the cubicles of his fingers hurt.  _ You want a fucking legacy, Wilbur?  _

He expected Phil to have a difference in opinion than him when it came to Ghostbur, or whatever it wanted to call itself. He didn’t expect it to  _ hurt _ so much. 

By the time Fundy’s calmed himself, the moon is ascending slowly above the treeline. He climbs up the makeshift staircase of andesite and cobble and walks under the pathway that leads from spawn to the nether portal and through the community house. He’s relieved that Alaistar’s developing museum isn’t far, across from Purpled’s old home. When he reaches the top, Alaistar is pacing, looking between a weathered piece of paper and the barren walls. 

“ I’m back,” Fundy calls out to him “ yes,” and the pickaxe slips from Alastair’s fingers, hitting the wood with a dull thud. He turns to Fundy, and there’s joy in the grin that’s beginning to form, in the way he takes a single step in Fundy’s direction.

“ Yes?” 

“ Yes.”

“ _Yes_!” He scoops Fundy up, ignoring the latter’s noise of surprise and spins him in a circle until they’re both laughing, and even Alastair’s vision has blurred. They release Fundy, who, despite his trembling legs, remains close, holding onto their arm and grinning up at them.

“ Oh! Hold on,” She rummages around in her inventory before her eyes light up and she returns Fundy’s earlier gift. It’s a crown, made from a map he can only assume Alastair meant to use but was determined to be useless for whatever reason. He places the crown on Fundy’s head, making a noise of faux annoyance as he brushes Fundy’s hair out of the way, so it doesn’t obscure his eyes. When they step back, the pride in the way their fingers graze their own crown makes Fundy smile despite himself, one canine catching on his bottom lip and making the both of them laugh.

“I dub thee, Prince Fundy.” She draws her own sword and moves to one knee, placing the blade flat on her hand and presenting Fundy with it.

“ You’re…” Fundy takes the sword, lifting it so it hangs in the air before he gently brings it to rest on Alastair’s shoulder, and repeats with the opposing side, “ all of you, and your flair for the dramatics.”

“ While we’re on the topic,” He rises, and holds the book from earlier back out to Fundy “ can you sign this?” Fundy’s expression becomes more unreadable with every page he turns over “ As much as I’d like to steal you away, there needs to be some form of legality to this, you know?”

“ …  _ eret _ .”

“ Fundy.”

(He is beyond words. Fundy has been dismissed as not enough his entire life. To have someone,  _ anyone _ make an effort to involve him… ) 

“ As much as I like this idea, this still involves Philza. He might hate me,” He mentally notes to apologize to Phil for implying he’s the reason Wilbur’s gone, “but technically, he needs to put his name in this too.”

“ Okay,” Alaistar slips the book into one of her inventory spots. Fundy, assuming the meeting is over, moves to leaves, but she stops him, and there’s that smile again, genuine and loving and Fundy hopes he can return it one day.

“ Fundy?”

“ Yes?”

“ I’m looking forward to being your dad,” He carefully takes Fundy’s hands in his own, squeezing them gently, “ I’m not Wil. There’s gonna be a lot I’m going to have to learn about you during this process, but Fundy?”

“ Yes?”

“ I’m going to do the best I can.”

“ That’s all I ever wanted.”


End file.
